


the cut that always bleeds

by its_illuminating



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Death, Dreams and Nightmares, Falling In Love, Fate & Destiny, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Loneliness, M/M, Memory Loss, Realistic Minecraft, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers, but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26680540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_illuminating/pseuds/its_illuminating
Summary: In his dreams, he kept seeing the same person over and over again. Sometimes he was just passing by. Sometimes he was simply talking to others - but most of the time he was just standing in the background, fading in and out of existence like a shadow.Dream always thought he was something his mind had made up. A representation of the isolation that followed him everywhere.He was wrong.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 199





	1. Normality

**Author's Note:**

> Quick reminder: This is just their personas, in no shape or form do I ship them in real life. If the Dream Team or anyone involved in my fics expresses that they're uncomfortable with things like this. I will take all of them down.
> 
> Enjoy!

His boots pounded against the stone floor, harsh and ragged breaths echoed through the cave walls as he rounded another corner - sprinting even deeper into the black cavern. An arrow buried itself into the wall next to him, the groans and hisses didn't fade away - no matter how quickly he ran. His lungs burned with every breath that he took, his legs begged him to stop moving. Dream knew that as soon as he did, he was going to be torn apart.

Dream had known from the beginning that this was a bad idea. He had planned to simply stock up on food, rest for a couple days at the inn, and then move on - leaving the village behind. 

Just like he always did. 

Things changed when the mayor had first appeared in front of the inn, begging for Dream's help with haunted eyes. Not wanting to become involved in the affairs of people he would never see again, Dream declined. And not even a full day later, the offers began.

Riches upon riches, the entire food supply, even his daughters hand in marriage was promised to Dream if he were to help them. He declined every offer, every suggestion the villagers threw at him. Dream had no use for such things, the food would spoil too quickly, the riches were something he could easily gather himself, and romance was the last thing he was interested in. It was when he saw the damage that the zombie hoards could do, that his resolve crumbled. 

The streets had been overrun by the time the first stars appeared in the sky. Zombies banged against the doors, nearly tearing them out of their hinges. Those who weren't fast enough to get inside were quickly torn apart, their bodies unrecognizable by the time the sun rose over the hills in the distance.  
Dream had never seen anything like it before. He never wanted to again. He promised to do what he could and climbed down into the abandoned mineshaft the village had used up until recently.

He ducked behind another corner, finally allowing his lungs to settle as he slipped into a hollowed-out wall. The groans and limping footsteps came closer and he pressed himself further into the wall, praying that the hoard wouldn't notice his hiding space.They moved past him without incident and Dream let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in. He slid out of his hiding spot and made his way into the opposite direction. His steps were careful and calculated, wanting to bring as little attention to himself as possible.

It wasn't like this had been particularly dangerous - he had taken out multiple spawners such as this one before. What he had miscalculated was just how many undead had already gathered there. Dream had snuck into the cobblestone room effortlessly enough, the air heavy with rot and mold - thankfully his mask had protected him from the worst of it. As soon as he stepped inside, Dream realized one thing. The zombies seemed almost docile, just staring at him before moving on with their business. He pushed through the mass before finally reaching the middle. The spawner gave a light glow when it was broken. Immediately, as if a flip had been switched, the Zombies barreled intro Dream, overpowering him in the small chamber. For every zombie Dream killed, two seemed to take its place. In the end, running had been his only chance at survival. He bolted through the dark halls, moving further and further away from the torches that had guided him before.

His heartbeat was loud in his ears, nearly drowning out every other noise around him but, this once, Dream was thankful for the adrenalin rushing through his veins. It forced him to focus, forced him to move, no matter how much his body screamed in pain with every step he took. He didn't know how long he had walked, the only thing his mind registered was the immense relief that washed over him when the first torch began to light his way. He followed the torches, climbing ladders and moving through collapsed mineshafts until finally, the muffled voices of the villagers reached his ears.

"Sir! Oh, thank god! It's been so long - we already assumed the worst!" 

The other voices fell silent when Dream appeared from out of the darkness. He looked down to see the mayors' daughter looking up at him with a soft smile. Her eyes were hopeful and it was then that Dream remembered the rewards he was to gain, should he succeed. Right.

He cringed.

"How long was I in there?" Dream asked instead, his voice hoarse as he brushed past the woman rather clumsily. He needed to lie down. His head was pounding and with the adrenaline slowly fading, Dream was beginning to feel every bruise and cut he had gotten back inside the cave. 

The young woman followed, walking by his side with her features pulled into a worried frown, "Three days. The hoard didn't come in the night, so we knew that you had succeeded but..." She trailed off, her gaze moving back to the group of villagers following them, "My father was about to send some of the miners inside to retrieve your body, I...I'm glad you're alright."

Dream took in a sharp breath, and stopped, turning to face the woman. While his mask hid most of his features, his mouth was fully visible, revealing the downturned corners of his mouth. "Listen, I really appreciate you worrying about me, but I'm not going to marry you. I'm not going to stay here. I'm going to pack my things and leave." Without waiting for a reply, Dream turned and began his walk back toward the village. 

She didn't follow him after that. 

When he arrived back at the inn, Dream ignored the surprised gazes of the other patrons inside and hurried upstairs into his room. When the door fell shut behind him, it took everything in his willpower, not to collabs on the bed and sleep the rest of the day away. Instead, he moved to the bag hanging off of the bedpost. He glanced looked over his belongings. A bow, some bread, carrots for his horse, a handful of emeralds and some medical supplies was everything that Dream could call his own.

It wasn't much, plus he knew that his sword would need repairs soon as well, but Dream felt restless. He didn't want to stay here any longer.

He had helped the village and that was enough. 

Dream reached out for his bag, but just as he was about to touch the material, he hesitated. His head was still pounding angrily against his skull. He knew that if he didn't rest up for at least a little, he was going to regret it by the time night rolled around. Dream sighed heavily and reached into the bag instead. He grabbed a piece of bread, shoved it into his mouth and pulled off his shirt to inspect any wounds he might have gotten.

His clothes were dirtied with dried mud and blood, torn at a couple of places. Dream cursed himself silently - he was going to spend an entire day just cleaning up this mess. He pulled off his mask, which had thankfully not been too damaged in the whole ordeal and set it down on the bedside table. He glanced down at himself. Black and blue bruises had already formed on his arms and chest, small cuts littered his skin, though most didn't seem bad enough to need any medical attention - a small comfort. Dream pulled his shirt back over his messy hair and let himself collapse onto the bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he relaxed. Finally letting go of the tension that had been lying on his shoulders for days. It didn't take long until he was pulled into the darkness of sleep.

There he was again, brown hair floating gently in the breeze as he talked with a group of endermen and creepers. He laughed, throwing his head back as the noise was carried by the wind and back to Dream. That was the only thing that ever reached him in these dreams, the sound of his laughter. 

His dreams were as varied and confusing as the ones from any other person. The only thing that changed his from the norm, was the person that appeared in every single one of them. A man that Dream always remembered, no matter how fuzzy the rest of the dream seemed to be. Brown hair, a face that made him seem younger than he actually was and laughter that filled Dream's chest with warmth. They never interacted - Dream had tried, but every time the other man opened his mouth to respond, the dream faded to black and he woke up drenched in sweat. Dream was sure it didn't mean anything. He had woken up in this world without reason, his dreams would have no meaning either. It was still a strange comfort, that no matter what happened when he was awake, the brunette would always be there in his dreams - watching everything unfold. 

The next morning, Dream felt much, much better. The pain in his head had faded and the bruises had already begun healing. With a mind still foggy from sleep, Dream made his way out of the inn and into the fresh morning air. He took a deep breath, taking in the quiet morning scenery for a couple moments before continuing down the dirt path.

However, when Dream arrived down at the stables, someone was already waiting for him.

The mayor's daughter stood there, her hands nervously toying with the end of her shirt. Her attention quickly snapped to Dream when she heard his approaching footsteps. He sighed, this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.

"Ehm...I'm just here to tell you that my father stocked up on supplies and put them on your horse. You know, for everything that you did." The woman said, gesturing toward his black and white horse that was still relaxing in the comforts of the stable. Dream nodded, "Right, well, I..." He pressed his lips together and glanced away, "I'm sorry about yesterday. I spoke out of turn, I-" The woman quickly shook her head, waving her hand in the air, "Oh no, don't worry about that. I didn't want to marry you." She laughed, "Who wants to marry someone they bearly know? Like, your attractive and all but I knew from the moment you rode into our village that you were never going to stay." 

Dream couldn't help but chuckle with her, feeling rather silly at the idea that the mayor was actually going to marry his daughter to some untrustworthy stranger. "It was nice to meet you though." She added, her smile falling into something softer, "I was going to say, I hope we'll see each other again, but I have a feeling that you don't return to places...do you?" Dream's lips pulled into a tight smile and he moved past her to ready his horse to leave, "No, I don't." By the time he turned back around to face her, the woman was already gone.

Dream didn't hesitate when he began to lead his horse out of the village and onto the open planes.

Dream didn't look back when he got on his horse and disappeared in the nearby woods.

This was how he had lived his life for years now. Travelling from village to village, always on the move to a goal Dream himself didn't even know. He didn't mind being alone like this, in fact, he found it quite freeing. Dream had no responsibilities toward anyone. He could go wherever he pleased without having to worry about leaving friends or family behind, without having to worry about putting anyone else in danger.

Though sometimes, when Dream stayed in villages a little longer. He watched children chase each other through the streets, saw how old friends greeted each other with fond smiles and warm hugs, or noticed the first beginnings of young love between two people. 

Sometimes when he watched all this unfold, the feelings in his chest twisted into something ugly.

Dream never acknowledged these feelings, pushing them to the side as he packed his things and rode away was much easier than confronting whatever was going on inside of him. He had never built a home, Dream knew that he never will.


	2. Warm glow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos so far! I've decided to update this every sunday.   
> Enjoy!

Dream took a deep breath, forest air filling his lungs as he slowed his horse down into a trot. The forest was a pleasant change from the fields and villages he had been crossing lately. In his journey, he had seen a lot of things, deserts, mountains, even took a boat over the ocean - but he always felt most at home in forests like this. The breeze was never too harsh, the rustling of the leaves overhead was always pleasant background noise. Dream's gaze moved up the sky, and he noted with dismay that the sun was already close to setting again, "Just how long have we been riding, Patches?" He murmured with a frown. 

  
He glanced around the forest, keeping an eye out for anything that could serve as a shelter for the night. There was nothing, no caves, no thick bushes nor any trees that could serve as one. Dream's grip on the reigns tightened, and he patted against Patches neck, "Guess we'll have to try our best to get through the night like this, huh?" Patches only puffed in response, "We'll be fine, yeah." Dream wasn't quite sure who he was reassuring. He still didn't feel too confident in fighting with these bruises and cuts, but Dream knew that he'd be fine - he was lucky. 

  
Soon enough, the stars and moon replaced the orange light in the sky. For now, the forest laid still, almost as if it waited with bated breath for the first undead to appear. The silence unsettled Dream greatly, and Patches felt quite the same. She was growing restless - refusing to move forward and stomping the ground instead. With a reluctant sigh, Dream pushed himself off Patches and took her reigns into one hand. He brushed his hand against her snout and began to lead her through the woods by foot.

  
The snap of a twig breaking was the only warning Dream got before the scent of rotten flesh overwhelmed his senses. The zombie lunged forward and Dream just bearly managed to unsheath his sword and thrust it forward, burring it to the hilt into it's already broken body. It groaned, more strangled than usual and slumped forward, it's head falling onto Dream's shoulder. He clicked his tongue and pushed the body off of him. It crumbled to the ground, leaking black blood onto the grass.   
Dream didn't have time to relax because as soon as he pulled his gaze back up, three zombies had already begun crawling out of the underwood, "Fuck." Carefully, he threw the reigns back over Patches head, "You stay here Patches." He mumbled, before bringing his attention back to the approaching Zombies. They were slow, the first one had already lost both of his legs and was pulling himself across the dirt using only his hands. The second was limping, maybe a broken ankle or lost foot - Dream couldn't tell. The last one was missing nothing, and was already approaching him fast. Well, as quickly as an undead, rotten being could be. 

  
He gripped his sword tighter and got to work.

  
Dream moved forward to the crawling zombie and brought his boot down, it's skull gave away easily. Before he could make another move, a hand gripped his wrist tightly and Dream bit back a scream as cold nails buried themselves into his flesh. He whipped around, pulling the sword up and burying it in the side of whatever zombie had a grip on him. It let out a groan, but its grip didn't loosen. Blood flowed down his hand and dripped down onto the grass. In a last attempt to get the zombie to let go, with all his might, Dream kicked against the monster's leg. The bone snapped, and the zombie tumbled down. He brought his sword down, pushing it cleanly through the skull. He didn't have time to inspect his wrist as the zombie was soon replaced by the last one. It ran forward, but before it could touch Dream, an arrow shot clean through its head and it crumbled to the ground in front of him.

  
Dream let out a breath, hope building in his chest that maybe someone living close by had heard the commotion, but when he looked up, hope fell away. Standing there was no human, but just a skeleton. It strung it's bow once more and Dream narrowly managed to avoid it as the arrow dug into a tree behind him.  
"Patches, we need to go!" Dream called as he began to make his way toward her. They needed to get out of here. It was only a matter of time before more undead would come out of the darkness, and Dream did not want a repeat of yesterday. 

  
He jumped forward, trying to get to Patches as fast as possible, but before either of them could reach the other, an all too familiar hiss made Dream's stomach drop. Dream had no time to react before he was flung through the air, his chest colliding against a tree with a sickening crack. His vision swam, and he slumped to the ground, a loud ringing replacing the noises of the forest. His chest burned and Dream vaguely registered something wet and warm dripping down his nose. Blood.   
It felt like he was underwater, the approaching footsteps and groans seeming muffled and far away. He pushed a hand against a tree by his side, trying to push himself off the ground - to get himself to move, to do anything but just lay there. His wrist screamed in pain and buckled under his weight before giving away. Panic swelled in Dream's throat, his brain shouting at him to move but his limbs felt heavy, and it wasn't long until his vision completely faded to black.

The first thing that Dream felt was warmth, and slowly, his eyes opened one by one. His vision swam for only a moment. Instead of leaves and groaning zombies, Dream was welcomed by the sight of a wooden ceiling, and the feeling of a blanket resting on his body.

  
Was he dead? 

  
The memory of blood on his face, of his chest being crushed, the panic was still so vivid. And yet there was no pain, in fact, Dream felt the best he had in...months, really. 

  
He pushed himself to sit up, the blanket pooling around his waist as he did. He pressed the material between his fingers. The wool was worn, and the blue colour of it seemed faded. This blanket was clearly hand-made and had been loved by whoever owned it. His gaze wandered to the room, it seemed to be some kind of study, and he quickly realized that he was lying on some sofa. A dark wooden desk sat in the corner with a chair to match, a notebook of some kind laid open ontop of it. An unlit furnace was stood opposite of him and a red carpet laid on the ground. The windows were covered, only letting in the smallest amount of light. 

  
It was day. 

  
Finally, Dream took a look down onto himself. His shirt was missing, instead, his chest was covered with clean bandages. "What the hell...," Experamently, Dream pulled his hand to his chest, gently pushing against where he knew a wound should be. There was no pain, nothing. Carefully Dream pushed himself off the sofa and onto the carpeted ground. The carpet was soft beneath his feet, and Dream was pleasantly surprised to see his boots standing right by the only door in the room. They looked almost brand-new. There was no rotten brain stuck to it, no mud - it looked even as if the laces had been replaced. They didn't look as worn as he remembered. Dream pressed his lips together, weird. On top of them laid the familiar green fabric of his hoodie. He pushed the hoodie over his head, slipped his boots on and slowly pulled the door open. 

  
The house was silent, save for the soft creaking of the door. It opened up into a small hallway. From what Dream had seen inside the study, he had assumed the house would have been home to a family. But on the walls, where pictures or drawings would usually hang, was nothing. The walls in the hallway were void of any decoration. Dream felt his stomach twist. The unsettling thing was, that something had definitely hung there only a short time before. Nails were still buried in the walls, and the wood was lighter in some places - clearly giving away the shape of picture frames.

  
He glanced down the hallway, there were four more doors, and at the end, a spiral staircase lead further into the house. Dream took a small breath and finally moved into the hall, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. As he got closer to the stairs, a noise broke through the silence in the house. 

  
A door opening and closing, a muffled sigh and footsteps moving to somewhere under him.

  
Dream hesitated, unsure if he should follow through with his plan of going downstairs to investigate, or to go back into the study and wait for whoever lived here there. His decision was made for him when the footsteps moved closer and began moving up the stairs. What he saw caused Dream to freeze for an entirely different reason. 

  
Right there, standing just a few feet away from him, was the same man he had seen in his dreams for years. The same brown hair, the same eyes, however instead of the smile he usually wore, his lips were pressed into a thin line. The brunette opened his mouth to speak. Dream sucked in a sharp breath and closed his eyes. Any moment now he'd wake up in the forest, being torn apart by spiders and zombies. 

  
This would be the last dream he'd ever have. 

  
"You're up. How are you feeling?", were the words that reached him instead.

  
Dream's throat tightened. His voice felt like something he should know, something he should know by heart but didn't. A sudden spike of pain in Dream's head caused him to hiss, and he pulled his hand up, pressing it against his eyes, "Is this a dream?" The words fell from his lips before Dream could stop himself. His voice was rough and horse, just how long had he been unconscious?

  
The man chuckled - Dream found himself liking that sound quite a lot, "No, it's not." 

  
Dream sucked in a breath and let his hand drop back to his side, the brunette smiled, but it seemed tight, nothing like the bright ones Dream knew from his dreams. "Let's go sit down, yeah?" He didn't wait for Dream to reply before moving back downstairs.

  
As Dream ascended the stairs, he was welcomed by the sight of the entrance. The room was small but opened up to a living room on the left and a cosy kitchen on the right. Dream watched the man disappear into the kitchen and followed him through the archway. 

  
Dream sat down at a table placed right by a tall window while the man began to mix something by the counter. He wore a dark green hoodie and much like the blanket upstairs, it seemed washed and worn. Loved. It was too big on him, Dream realized with slight amusement. His brown hair was longer than it was in his dreams, curling around his jaw as if to frame the man's face. 

  
The brunette glanced behind him, green eyes meeting brown and Dream realized with flushed cheeks, that he might have been looking for a bit too long. He averted his eyes, his gaze moving outside the window instead. The house seemed to be situated in some kind of forest clearing, with a small lake sitting at the edge of it. The grass was dark green and littered with white and red flowers. 

  
He was snapped out of his daze when a cup was placed in front of him. He looked back to see the brunette smile gently, before taking a seat in front of him. Dream glanced down at the cup, it smelled of the forest and was murky green in colour, "It's a herbal tea, should help with your headache." The man explained. Dream eyed it cautiously, but despite the kind look in the other's eyes, Dream didn't touch the liquid.

  
The man's smile faltered slightly, "Right well..." He cleared his throat, "I'm George. I found you in the forest two days ago. You've been asleep ever since." 

  
George. Dream had never really thought about his name before, but he found that George fit him perfectly. 

  
"Alright. Doesn't really explain how I'm alive though. I was in pretty bad shape, as far I as can remember." 

  
"I used Regeneration Potion. Had some stocked away" George replied and judging by the following silence, that was all the information he was willing to give.

  
Thinking back to that night, everything seemed like a blur. The zombies, the skeleton, the creeper had been the finishing touch. And Patches...

  
"Wait shit, fuck." He said suddenly, pushing himself out of the chair and nearly knocking over the tea in the progress. George flinched back in surprise and stared up at Dream with wide, brown eyes, "Patches, my horse. She was with me. Is she alright? Did you see her?" As soon as those words left his mouth, George visibly relaxed and heaved a small sigh. Wordlessly, he stood up and gestured for Dream to follow him. 

  
The two of them moved through the front door and outside, the fresh morning air greeting them. Dream took a deep breath, the cool air burned in his lungs, and he suddenly felt much more grounded. This felt real. 

  
George moved down a small gravel path to the back of the house and there, in a small fenced-in area, stood Patches calmly relaxing in the sun. Relief flooded through his body, she seemed unharmed. "I found her close to your body. She was protecting you, I think," George said, and Dream turned back to face him. George was leaning against the housewall, watching him with a calculating gaze. Dream shifted uncomfortably.

  
It still felt surreal, seeing the man he had only known from his dreams right in front of him. Was he really still alive? Or was this was afterlife had in store for him? Maybe he was still lying on the forest ground, and his brain had simply shut down, giving him a dream instead of the harsh reality. 

  
"She's fine, you should be able to leave with her today." George continued.

  
Dream pressed his lips together, his gaze moving back to Patches. She was well-rested and seemed completely relaxed. He let out a small breath, his gaze moving back to the brunette, "Why did you help me? Regeneration Potions aren't cheap. Quite a few resources you threw out for a stranger,"

  
George frowned, "Would you prefer if I had left you to die?"

  
"Well, no. It's just a lot of effort to go through for someone you don't know." 

  
Something flashed in George's eyes then, something almost akin to anger, "Well, I don't really want to have corpses lying around my property." It was dismissive, but Dream had a feeling that George wasn't telling the full truth. Before he could question him further, however, George pushed himself off the wall. He smiled, a smile that seemed much more genuine than the ones Dream had seen before and spoke again, "I'll go get the other things you had on you when I found you, then you can be on your way." 

  
As Dream watched George disappear behind the corner, something inside his chest urged him to follow, Dream quickly dismissed such feelings. He stayed where he was and instead brought his gaze to Patches, watching as she munched down on the grass below. This was good, staying here was not an option. George was a mystery, maybe he wasn't even real. But mysteries were never good, they only brought trouble. That was the last thing Dream wanted. 

  
Dream's gaze flickered to the house behind him, a home too big for one person, a home with missing pictures and cold halls. 

  
George footsteps announced his arrival, Dream's bag was hanging in his hands and as the brunette held it out for Dream, his lips pressed together, something in Dream's chest gave away. He took the bag, the fabric rough between his hands, "George." Dream began, and the brunette's face softened, "I'd feel bad about not paying you back in some way..." Dream cleared his throat as he glanced away, "How about I stay with you for a while? Help out for a few days." 

  
George's eyes widened, "What? Why? You don't usu-" George interrupted himself and shook his head, "You don't seem like the type to stick around." 

  
"Yeah well, I'd feel bad just leaving without giving you something in return. Since I don't really have anything to give right now..." Dream trailed off, shrugging. That was only half the truth if Dream was honest. Sadly, saying that you've been dreaming about the stranger in front of you for as long as you can remember would probably not be a good idea.

  
Conflict flickered across George's features, "I...alright, I don't see why not." He finally said, and Dream couldn't help the grin that formed on his lips, "Great! I don't think I ever introduced myself, so, I'm Dream." 

  
Finally, a smile formed on George's lips as well, "Dream, huh?" Something heavy fell from his chest when George spoke his name. He quite liked the way his name sounded when it came from George. 

  
Dream wasn't quite sure what had moved him to stay. George had given him the perfect opportunity to leave without looking back, but something inside of him refused the one thing Dream usually did so willingly. 

  
A strong gust of wind broke through the silence between them, throwing up a couple of loose leaves. George shivered as he buried his hands into his hoodie, "We should probably go back inside, get some food into your system and all that." George spoke, gesturing back to the house. "Yeah, that would be great, "Dream replied, following behind the brunette as they made their way back into the building. For the first time in a while, Dream felt contentment form in his chest. 


	3. Blinding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like, a day early but I finished this chapter earlier than usual, so here we are! 
> 
> Thank you again for all your kudos and the comments so far! Hopefully you'll enjoy!

It had been three days now since Dream had decided to stay with George. Dream had been pleasantly surprised to realize that it was quite pleasant to wake up to another person waiting for him. It was good to know that his mornings weren't spent entirely alone. Despite the warmth in his chest, Dream couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong. For one, his dreams had stopped. No creepers were having a tea party, no endermen taking boats down waterfalls. There was no George either. Instead, he was welcomed by the sight of him waiting for Dream by the kitchen table each morning.

  
George was a mystery all on his own. Despite him stating that he was alright with Dream staying for a while, he seemed to do his best to avoid the blond.   
On their first day, he had given Dream tasks he could do, given him a tour of the house and then promptly locked himself away in his room for the rest of the day. When he smiled, it never quite reached his eyes, his laughter seemed tight - as if he was holding it back and he broke off eye contact far too quickly. It was tense, it was awkward. Dream didn't know what to do to make it better. If George asked him to, Dream would leave without a complaint, but George never did, so, Dream stayed. 

  
The last few days had been quite the same. They ate breakfast together and then George disappeared from the house for the majority of the day. Dream usually busied himself with taking care of Patches or taking out any stray monsters that had managed to hide from the sun in the woods while he waited for George to return.  
He didn't ask George where he went. Dream knew that he wouldn't get an answer. 

  
Despite George's held back nature around Dream, the blond could tell that he had once been a man filled with laughter. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he grinned one of the rare honest smiles. He clutched his stomach when he laughed a bit too loud, a while too long. Dream could see it well, that these quiet walls had once been filled with laughter, laughter George had shared with whoever had lived here before. With all these observation Dream made of the other, he had to wonder if he wasn't watching him a bit too closely. 

  
Sunlight streamed through the open study windows as the dawn of the fourth day came around and, Dream woke up feeling more exhausted than ever. Instead of the familiar comfort of his dreams, nightmares welcomed him every time sleep took him. The only thing Dream remembered when he woke up was blood. Blood and pain-filled his sleep for reasons he couldn't explain.

  
A knock on his door broke Dream out of his thoughts, "Come in." The door was slowly pushed open, revealing George, who was already dressed for the day, "Morning." The brunette spoke with a faint smile, a smile Dream gladly returned. Dream pulled his legs up, crossing them to sit more comfortably, "What's up?" George moved deeper into the room, standing in front of Dream, "I was planning on building a well in front of the house, but I need some stone. So I wanted to ask if you'd feel up for mining?" The brunette spoke carefully as if he was afraid Dream might lash out. Why he would think that Dream couldn't fathom. He had been nothing but kind toward George, so he thought anyway. 

  
"A well? Why would you need a well? Don't you have a lake right outside?" Dream asked with a confused frown. 

  
George rolled his eyes, "Easy for you to say, you're not the one who constantly has to carry water back and forth." Dream chuckled, "I see your point. Anyway, yeah I'm down, when should we head out?" A grin widened on George's lips, and Dream realized fondly that the corners of his eyes did indeed crinkle up, "As soon as possible. I want to be back before the sunsets. I'll wait for you downstairs." George sent him one last smile, before heading back to the hallway.

  
The warmth that had been present in Dreams chest for days now grew with the realization, that George did want to spend time with him. Maybe George just needed to get used to another presence in the house, after all, he must have been living alone for quite a while. Dream got himself dressed and headed downstairs, only to see George already waiting for him by the front door. A sword and pickaxe were both hanging from his side. Dream noted that another sword, one Dream recognized as his own, and a pickaxe were leaning against the wall right next to him. George nodded toward the tools, "We'll only need some stone, so I only made two pickaxes."   
Dream picked both of the tools up, sheathing the sword at his side. Dream toyed around with the pickaxe in his hand, testing it's weight as he threw it up and down carefully. George simply watched him, probably waiting for his verdict. Dream grinned at the shorter man, "It feels good. You're a practised crafter, huh?" George grinned somewhat sheepishly, his cheeks gaining a bit of colour, "Ah, more or less." Once the two of them pocketed some torches, they finally made their way outside.  
The morning air was fresh and, Dream felt the cold settle on his skin. He stood still for only a moment, gazing into the forest in front of him. This place really was beautiful, with its high trees, flowers and distant mountains. Sometime in the future, Dream could see himself living in a place like this, with someone he loved deeply. "Dream, what are you doing?" George called from a distance and, he turned to face the brunette. He was standing right where the clearing bled into the forest, "Sorry, just admiring the view." Dream called as he moved to catch up with George, "How did you find this place? It's pretty far away from any villages, right?" Dream asked once the two of them began walking side by side.

  
George was leading them through the underwood, pushing sticks and bushes out of the way. Clearly, he had gone this exact way many times before, "A..." George's voice faltered, "A friend and I were travelling together for a while and when we found this place..." He trailed off, a fond smile forming on his lips. Dream glanced away from his companion, that smile felt...private as if it wasn't meant for Dream, "And it just felt like home, you know?" 

  
Dream pressed his lips together. He wanted nothing more than to understand what that must have felt like. To find someone and a place that you could just see as a home...that wasn't something Dream had even been capable of. No matter who he met, where he was, it never felt quite right. Surprisingly this feeling of unrest had lessened ever since Dream had met George. It still didn't feel quite right, as if there was something missing but, the unrest had given away to contentment.  
"Where are they now? Your friend, I mean." It had been bothering Dream for a while now. George had clearly not lived alone this entire time, the house was too big for that and, yet George had never said anything about someone living with him. Dream didn't want to ask out of the blue, but on this one rare occasion where George did share things about himself, Dream decided to take the opportunity. George however, didn't reply and, when Dream glanced back to him, he found George looking uncharacteristically stern. Dream was just about to repeat the question, but George interrupted him before he could, "We're here, down there." He said simply and came to a stop, pointing to a small cave opening covered by leaves. Dream took note of the obvious subject change but decided not to push the topic further. George shoved the leaves to the side with his foot, and hopped inside, "Why is this covered? You're literally the only one who lives around here." Dream spoke as he followed George inside.

  
The inside was a hollowed-out space, something that was very obviously not done by nature. The room was lit up by multiple torches and, chests upon chests were lined up on the wall. However, George had clearly not used this space in a long time. The chests were covered in cobwebs and, the writing on the signs that marked each one was faded, "Well, if we hadn't met, you probably would have come across this place and stolen from me. It's just in case." George said, brushing against one of the chests with his hand. He grimaced and wiped the dust away on his jeans. 

  
Dream gave a gasp of mock hurt and placed a hand again his heart, "George, is that what you think I am? A thief?" He wasn't going to mention the fact that he definitely would have done as George said - it did look abandoned after all. George turned his head to look at the blond, a grin on his lips, "Obviously. You're whole, 'rugged, lonely adventurer' gimmick isn't going to work on me." 

  
"It isn't a gimmick, George." 

  
"Sure, sure, that's what every rugged adventurer says." 

  
"Just how many handsome strangers do you meet around here, George?"

  
The brunette only stuck out his tongue in reply and Dream couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. However, when their eyes met, George's smile faltered and faded all too quickly once again. The light atmosphere gave away to a tense one, just like the one that had followed them these last few days. George sighed and began to walk to an iron door in the corner, "This leads further into the cave," George punched the button next to the door and watched as it swung open. The cave behind the door was still lit up with torches, but Dream could see the light fade into darkness further down the tunnel. The two of them stepped through the opening and, George picked up two of the torches hanging by the side, giving one to Dream. 

  
"So, what material do you want to use? Judging by your need to go into a cave it can't be cobblestone." Dream stated, his gaze wandering to the man beside him as they began to make their way down the tunnel. They passed multiple openings on the side, smaller tunnels that were dimly lit and seemed just big enough to fit only one person. Just what had George been doing here? How long had he lived around here? He couldn't be much older than Dream...  
"I'm planning on using Andesite. I saw a big vein of it deeper in the cave last week." George spoke, his gaze focused on the way in front of them. He didn't even cast a glance toward the small tunnels they passed. 

  
Soon enough, the man-made tunnel gave away to the familiar structure of the natural caves that littered the world they lived in. The lights that had been illuminating the tunnel before faded away, their only light source now, being the torches in their hands. The cave was quiet, no monsters hissing and shuffling around. It was only him and George. In the silence, Dream's gaze once again moved to George. The torch in his hand was illuminating his face, the orange light reflecting in his dark eyes. Dream pressed his lips together as he studied the man. He may not have known George for long, but Dream had to admit that he was beautiful. George glanced at him and, once again their eyes met, "What are you looking at?" His voice was filled with light confusion and, something that Dream wanted to believe was fondness.   
Dream's cheeks flushed and, he cleared his throat, "Nothing." George only chuckled, shaking his head with a faint smile on his lips. 

  
They moved deeper into the cave system, rounding corner after corner as George confidently lead them through the dark. He placed no hints to point the way, no signs that they could follow to get back to the surface. Normally Dream would be worried, but he had a deep sense that George knew this place like the back of his hand. Dream liked to believe he was quite good at navigating cave systems. He carved small markings on the walls or memorized any landmarks on his way, George, however, did none of this. 

  
Finally, they came to a stop and, George slid down a small ridge, landing safely on the ground a few feet down. It was a small space, a wider stone edge that gave them just enough room to manoeuvre before it broke off into a deep and wide cliff. Dream followed and, while George observed the stone wall now behind them, Dream glanced over the edge of the cliff. It went deep and, he could see the glow of lava faintly on the bottom, "Is this it?" Dream asked, casting his gaze back to George behind him. The torch he had been holding was now lying by his feet, his hand holding the pickaxe tightly, "Yep, this is it." The two of them shared a look before George got to work. Dream surveyed the area for any monsters for a moment, before joining George.

  
They worked in silence, the only noise that filled the area was their pickaxes hitting against the rock. It was rather surprising, how there had been no monsters around. At least not to the amount that Dream was normally used to. On their way to the Andesite deposit there had been a few stray zombies and spiders, but nothing the two of them couldn't handle. No words were shared between them when they mined, and they slowly filled up the bag George had bought with Andesite chunks. The silence was broken when the rattling of a skeleton could be heard from the distance. 

  
Both men stopped their mining, their gaze moving up to where they had jumped from. George heaved a sigh, "Do you want to go and deal with it?" Dream opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted as the skeleton suddenly dropped down in front of them. They jumped in surprise, moving back out of instinct and the skeleton drew back it's bow - sending an arrow flying. It flew right past Dream and landed somewhere behind him. It was the cry of pain that made him realize just what exactly had been hit. Dream whipped around eyes wide and, he was met with the sight of George, his teeth clenched and arrow planted cleanly in his shoulder. Blood was painting his blue shirt dark and, he held his wounded shoulder with narrowed eyes. Dream didn't even have time to react when George already brushed past him, sword tightly clasped in his hand and with a switch kick sent the skeleton flying down the ravine. What neither of them had anticipated, was that just before the skeleton went flying over the edge, it's bone hand caught George's wrist and pulled him down with it. 

  
Dream felt his heart drop and panic bubble in his chest as George fell over the edge. 

  
He lunged forward, hand outstretched as he tried to reach the brunette before it was too late. He just bearly managed to catch the other, his hand gripping tightly around the other's forearm. Geroge used his foot to kick the skeleton off of him, sending the bones into the lava below.

  
Both of them were panting heavily, silence once again overtaking their surroundings, "I got you, George." Dream finally spoke, his voice rough with the panic that still filled his chest. George stared up at Dream with wide eyes, an emotion in his eyes that Dream couldn't place, "Yeah." He breathed out, "You do." Finally, Dream pulled the other up with a huff, both of them tumbling up onto the stone edge. They didn't stay there for long - Dream quickly helping George stand, "You okay?" George cast a short glance toward his shoulder, where the arrow was still embedded in his flesh, "I'll be fine, but we should get out of here." George said and, despite his words, Dream could hear the pain in his voice. 

  
This time Dream was the one to carry the bag, as heavy as it was thanks to the stones, Dream believed it better for him to carry it instead of George. Surprisingly, the Brunette didn't protest and instead moved to pick up the pickaxes. George's face was pulled into a small grimace, his eyes thoughtful. Dream pressed his lips together and carefully laid his hand onto George's healthy shoulder. He flinched and quickly turned around to face Dream, though the surprise in his eyes faded when he came face to face with Dream, "God, you scared me." He laughed, though it sounded strangled. "Are you okay George?" Dream asked again, his voice laced with concern. He had never seen George quite this...spooked. George however, simply smiled, "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go." He brushed past Dream and made his way back to where they had slid down from. Dream went up first, carefully helping George back up as well so that he wouldn't injure his shoulder even more. The walk back to the surface was spent in silence and with no incident. For once Dream wasn't focused on the lack of monsters. Instead, his entire focus was on the man walking slowly next to him. George was holding his shoulder tightly, lips pressed in a thin line. He was obviously trying to keep the pain from showing on his face.

  
Once the two of them were back outside and the cave entrance was once again covered by leaves, the two of them began to head back. The sun was already setting over the trees, showing just how long they had actually spent in the cave system. By the time they arrived back inside the house, the sun had already disappeared behind the mountains. 

  
George pressed the door shut behind them and let the tools he had been carrying clatter to the ground. Dream followed suit, letting the bag of stone chunks fall to the ground. Almost immediately, he brought his attention to George, "Let me help you with your shoulder." Dream spoke before he could even fully process his words. The image of George being pulled over the edge and possibly crashing onto the ground still felt fresh in his mind. Something about George being hurt stirred something in Dream's chest. He needed to offer his help before George pulled away again. 

  
George studied him for a moment, "Alright...all the supplies should be in the kitchen." He sounded tired, not that Dream could blame him. 

  
They headed into the kitchen together and George immediately let himself fall onto one of the chairs. His body slummed down and he let out a small hiss as he moved his shoulder a bit too roughly. Dream could tell that the bleeding that stopped. Still, he hoped his limited medical knowledge was enough to help, "The medical stuff is in the upper left cabinet, by the stove." Dream followed George's words, easily reaching up to pull the cabinet door open. The small space was filled with multiple potions, with only a handful of them labelled. Behind all of them though, Dream could spot a brown leather bag hidden away. Carefully Dream pushed the glass vials to the side and pulled out the bag, "This it?" He asked as he placed the bag onto the table with a small thud. George nodded mutely and sighed, "How do you want to do this?"

  
"Well...You might need stitches and, we should get something to disinfect your wound too. We have no idea where that skeleton has been...or how long it's been down there I suppose. Do you have any alcohol?" 

  
A groan fell past George's lips and, he let his head hang back, "Great, this is always the worst part about being injured." He murmured before nodding his head toward the closed living room door, "In the living room is a cabinet next to the fireplace, you should find some there." Dream nodded and with a short, reassuring smile sent toward George, the taller man left the room to move into the living room. 

  
Despite having stayed here for a couple of days now, Dream had never actually been inside the livingroom. George always kept the door closed and, Dream didn't really want to intrude any further than he already had. He pushed the door open and was immediately welcomed by a comfortable warmth. The room was drenched in warm light - glowstone lamps illuminating the room. There was a big sofa with two armchairs standing on either side of it, turned to face each other. They all stood parallel to a fireplace, it was unlit but had been used just recently. The ash inside of it still seemed fresh. On the sofa laid crumpled bedding, had George been sleeping here? Dream pressed his lips together, he wasn't really in a position to judge someone over their sleeping habits.

  
Dream spotted a picture on the wall. The painting hung right beside a wide bookshelf, it showed a grass landscape. Colourful flowers covered the pictured grass and in the distance ran a waterfall, flowing down a wide mountain range that encircled the grass plane. It was beautiful and seemed almost vaguely familiar to Dream. He didn't think anything of it, Dream had travelled for years now, it was no surprise that George and him had maybe walked the same paths before the brunette had settled down. 

  
Finally, Dream pulled his attention away from his surroundings and focused on the cabinet George had pointed out. It was made out of birch wood and rather small, it stood out against the otherwise dark walls and, its craftsmanship was rather poor, in Dream's option. Dream pulled the doors open, immediately spotting the bottle of alcohol George had mentioned. Otherwise, the cabinet was almost empty, just a few unopened letters and other papers. What caught Dream's attention, however, was a photograph. Without really thinking about it, Dream reached out and picked up the picture. It was George. Half of the picture was burned, but George was very clearly visible.

  
His smile was bright and, his eyes shone clear happiness, he had his arm wrapped around someone, however, who exactly they were was impossible to tell. Their half of the picture had been burned, the only thing showing that someone had been there was the arm they had wrapped around George's shoulder. The house stood proudly behind them and Dream had to assume that this had been taken when he and his friend had first built the house. For some reason, looking at this picture, filled Dream with a sense of loss. 

  
Who would ever want to leave behind someone as kind as George?

  
"Dream? Everything alright?" George's muffled voice caused Dream to flinch, nearly letting the picture slip his fingers, "Ah, yes, sorry! I just found it!" Came Dream's stumbled reply. He quickly placed the picture back to where he found it and took the bottle of alcohol instead. He closed the doors again and hurried out of the living room, pulling the door shut behind him. When he came back to the kitchen, George was still sitting where Dream had left him, "What took you so long? You do know I have an arrow in my shoulder, right?" 

  
Dream winced, embarrassment bubbling in his chest. He really shouldn't admit that he snooped around straight to George's face, "Sorry." Dream placed the bottle of alcohol next to the bag and noted that George had already gotten out two towels as well, "Alright, best get it over with, huh?" Dream spoke with a small grin. He reached down to pull the other chair closer to George and sat down in front of him. He reached out toward the brunette, placing one hand onto the arrow and the other onto George healthy shoulder, "Brace yourself." 

  
"Wow, this is just filling me with confidence, Dream." George deadpanned and Dream only rolled his eyes. With one last warning, Dream swiftly pulled the arrow out of his shoulder. George cursed in pain, blood once again seeping into his shirt. He placed the arrow onto the table next to them, "You need to take off your shirt so that I can disinfect the wound." George's eyes widened and Dream could see in them that the brunette wanted to protest. However, in the end, he didn't have much of a choice. Slowly, as to not irritate his shoulder any further, George shrugged off his shirt and let it drop to the ground. Dream picked up one of the towels and pressed it against the wound, causing George to let out a hiss in pain, "Be careful." George hissed out, throwing a halfhearted glare toward the blond. 

  
"Oh, hush you." Dream replied, rolling his eyes with a sigh. 

  
It didn't take long for the bleeding to stop and carefully, Dream pulled the bloodied towel away. The wound didn't seem as bad, now that Dream was looking at it clearly. No bone or muscle was visible and for the most part, it seemed irritated. Dream replaced the dirty towel with the clean one, dripping the alcohol onto the fabric beforehand. George let out another pained hiss but this time didn't complain. Dream carefully cleaned the wound with the alcohol as he spoke, "I don't think you'll need stitches, so bandages should be enough." He heard George huff, "Didn't know you were a doctor." 

  
"Well, I've had my fair share of wounds." Dream simply replied. 

  
Once the wound was cleaned, Dream pulled away to dig through the leather bag. It was filled with unlabeled bottles, small bags of herbs, as well as the bandages Dream had been searching for. Careful and slow, Dream wrapped George's shoulder, both of them staying silent during the entire process. It was only when Dream moved to tie a neat knot by his shoulder, that he spoke up, "I know you wanted to build a well. But how about I do it for you?" His voice was soft, not wanting the break the rather comfortable silence. 

  
Geroge was silent for a while, "How do you mean?" 

  
Dream leaned back, seating himself back onto the chair, "Well, you can watch me and tell me what to do while I build. I'm not the best, but digging a hole and throwing around rocks is probably not a good idea with your shoulder." George was looking at him strangely, his eyes contemplative, body tense. Then, almost all at once, George's frame relaxed and, his eyes softened, a smile beginning to tug on his lips, "You know what? I think that would be a good idea." A tension Dream hadn't realized he held loosened at George's agreement and he couldn't help the grin that formed on his lips, "Great! That's..great!" 

  
George chuckled and slowly pushed himself up to stand, "Well, I'll head off to bed now. Thank you, Dream, really." He didn't wait for Dream to reply before moving out of the kitchen and into the living room. Seems like he really is sleeping there. 

  
It was only a few minutes later that Dream headed upstairs to sleep as well. 

  
Whatever nightmare he may have had in the night was only a vague memory in the morning. Dream didn't dwell on it and almost immediately headed downstairs once he had gotten dressed. George was already in the kitchen, kneeling in front of the furnace. He was throwing the chunks of stone they had mined yesterday inside. "Morning," Dream spoke, a small yawn escaping him. George pushed himself to stand and threw Dream a wide smile. The blond had to pause for a moment. It was almost exactly like the smile George had in the picture Dream had found yesterday. Bright and filled with warmth in a way that made Dream's heart beat faster, "Morning!" George said and reached into one of the cabinets, pulling out two, small loaves of bread and throwing one over to Dream. He caught it with a small amount of scrambling, his eyes still not leaving George, "Are you...okay?" Dream said carefully.

  
George took a bite out of the loaf of bread, throwing him a questioning glance, "Of course, my shoulder is feeling pretty good too." 

  
"Right..." 

  
George's odd behaviour didn't change back to what Dream had gotten used to. He seemed brighter and much more open. Dream wasn't sure what to think, had the brunette gotten a concussion in the cave yesterday? Though even as the day progressed and the two of them began digging out the well, George showed no sign of a head wound. The only sign of the incident in the cave yesterday was the bandage that sometimes peaked out from underneath George's shirt.

  
In the end, Dream decided not to focus on it anymore. Simply spending time with George and hearing his laugh ring through the air when Dream slipped on the mud he was digging up, again, was enough for him.

  
After all, Dream knew that he couldn't stay here forever.


	4. bottom of the river

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> misunderstanding's are always fun, aren't they?
> 
> to be honest, I'm not too happy with this chapter - but I hope you still enjoy!

Staying with George had done something to Dream.

He had never been interested in love, in relationships or anything of that kind. He never bonded with people. Even on the rare occasion where he did, he never felt anything beyond platonic interest for them. George, as always, was different. Every rule that Dream set for himself, he broke. Whenever Dream made George laugh, something warm curled around his chest. Whenever George smiled, Dream felt his world shift - his head turning dizzy with the desire to see him smile again. Even as something as simple as their hands brushing together when they walked through the woods, side by side, made Dream's heart race.

  
Dream had never felt like this before. He didn't know how to handle it. 

  
Of course, he was well aware that his feelings toward George had long stopped being platonic. He wasn't a child after all, but it make the unrest that had disappeared reappear tenfold. Their relationship was shifting and, every shift reminded Dream of how he couldn't stay. He couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to. Late in the night, when spiders crawled around outside and, skeletons clattered around, Dream asked himself why.

  
Why couldn't he stay?

  
He never found an answer - he just...couldn't.

  
There were things George didn't tell him. Things that Dream somehow knew George was never going to share. It had been two days since they built the well together, marking this the longest time Dream had stayed anywhere without moving on. In these two days, George grew more relaxed each day, smiling a little brighter, laughing a little easier. He began to spend time with Dream.

  
It scared him. It was going to make leaving so much harder.

  
As much as Dream adored George, as much as he enjoyed his time in the small cottage out in the woods, it felt wrong. There were no answers to the mysteries Dream had been seeking. No answers why Dream even existed, no answers as to why he had seen George in his dreams for years. Why - for the first time in as long as Dream could remember - he didn't want to leave.

  
He wanted to stay. He wanted to wake up next to George each morning, make him smile and laugh as they baked bread together and took care of Patches. Maybe they could even adopt a stray cat from a surrounding village-

  
Dream had thought about it a lot. 

  
But as much as Dream wanted to let himself fall, let himself sink into those daydreams and wishes, he was always reminded that this was never going to be a possibility. Not only did George not feel the same way but it wouldn't feel right to replace whoever had lived here with George before. Someone who had clearly meant a lot to him.

  
However, those were all thoughts for when he laid awake at night and not when George was currently explaining to him why they needed to head to the village today. 

  
Wait, what-

  
"Hold on, what did you say about the village? What village?" Dream asked, interrupting the rant George had been in the middle of. He cast Dream a glare, "Were you listing to anything I just said?" Dream grinned sheepishly. That was all the answer George needed. The man sighed and leaned back in his chair, removing his hands from the kitchen table to fold them in his lap, "We're running low on vegetables and dried meat, wheat too. We're running low on food basically. So we're going to go to the village closest to here. You should have passed it on your way here actually. Their mayors' name is...Robert, I think?" George spoke, oblivious to the dread that suddenly pooled in Dream's stomach. 

  
George couldn't be talking about the same village Dream had passed, right? He'd rather not run into the mayors' daughter again. Dream hadn't exactly acted kindly toward her, "Do I have to come with you?" George paused, confusion filling his expression, "Yes? I'm not about to carry food for two people by myself." Dream sighed, he supposed it wasn't too bad. Maybe the mayor's daughter had already forgotten about him. 

  
George stood up, placing a hand on Dream's shoulder as the brunette passed him. Dream tried to ignore the way his heart skipped when Geroge's warmth bleed through his hoodie. George smiled softly, "I'm sure it'll be fine, plus it's not like you have anything better to do here." Dream heaved a sigh and watched with a tilted head as George moved out of the kitchen and further into the house, "I suppose I'll grace you with my presence then." Dream called after the other. He could practically hear George's grin when the other shouted back, "You're the one who's graced with my presence Dream!" Dream grinned. 

  
He couldn't even deny that.

  
It wasn't long before the two finally set out toward the village. It turned out that the village was much closer than Dream had originally thought. When he had left, Dream remembered taking much longer to get to the forest and even then it had felt like he spent hours wandering through the woods. As it turned out, he had simply gotten turned around multiple times. Him and George only took an hour of walking to get to the village, instead of Dream's entire day.

  
The village was much more alive than the last time Dream had been here. Children ran through the streets and, laughter could actually be heard. He still remembered what it had been like before, quiet, glum, waiting with dread for the night to come. Maybe he did do some good after all. 

  
They both came to a stop in front of the village gate, a simple wooden arch that stretched over the dirt road as greeting. He really did not look forward to spending time here. George though, moved through the gate with a smile, greeting some of the villagers they passed with a wave, "Do you come here a lot?" Dream asked. George's attention immediately moved over to the blond and, he nodded, "Yeah, I'm not much of a farmer, so I get food and such from here." Dream hummed in acknowledgement, his gaze breaking away from his companion to sweep over their surroundings. 

  
The village was much bigger than Dream had first realized. When he had spent a couple days here, Dream had stayed close to the inn at the edge of the town. Now, he realized though, that there were a lot more things to see here.

  
Curiosity grasped Dream's chest and,he felt the sudden urge to investigate, "George," He said, bringing his attention back to the brunette. He only hummed in reply, waiting for Dream to continue, "You don't mind me looking around on my own right? We can meet up by the gate in an hour?" 

  
George frowned, his previous content washing away for light confusion, "Ehm, sure." 

  
Dream grinned, "Awesome, see you in an hour, Georgie!" Dream called back as he moved deeper into the village. He didn't see the way George flinched at the nickname, his face falling. 

  
It wasn't long until George was completely out of sight and Dream came to a stop, looking around for anything he might do during the hour he gave himself. He didn't even know what he wanted to do, it's not like there was anything to do in this village. He might as well buy some sweets of some kind - something he could give to George as a small present.

  
When he lifted his head, something caught his eye - his plan momentarily forgotten. There, in the display window of a small shop, were white googles. The few emeralds that Dream could call his own suddenly felt heavy in his pocket. He didn't know why he suddenly felt so pulled toward them, but the image of George smiling as Dream gave him these as a gift made his heart warm. Dream stepped inside the shop, where an old woman greeted him with a smile, "Ah, hello traveller! What can I do for you today?" She said cheerily.

  
Dream cleared his throat, his gaze shifting through the store that was filled with all kinds of smaller trinkets, "The white goggles in the window, how expensive are they?" The elder's smile widened and she moved away from her spot behind the counter, walking to the display window instead, "You, my good man, have good taste. You see, these are no ordinary goggles." Dream frowned lightly, that was definitely going to push up the price. The woman continued, now with the goggles in hand, "The lenses are special. They were crafted out of a special material found only in the nether. Anyone who wears them will experience colours in a way they never have before." 

  
"And what exactly does that mean?" Dream asked after a small pause. This sounded like a scam if he was being honest. The woman chuckled and held the goggles out to Dream, "Try them, dear." With little hesitation, Dream took the white goggles into his hands. 

  
The frame was white, decorated with small, silver indents that curled like vines through the white. The lenses themselves were dark and, the goggles seemed more like sunglasses than simple protective glasses. Dream pressed his thumb against the decorative engravings, these would look beautiful on George - whether these were indeed special or not. Dream tore his gaze away from the goggles and to the woman, who was looking at him with an expecting spark in her eye, "I'll take them. How expensive are they?" 

  
"12 emeralds."

  
Dream's free hand moved into his jean pocket, where he dug out the last emeralds he could call his own, exactly 12. Dream didn't even think about it when he dropped the emeralds into the woman's waiting hands, "Thank you, dear," She spoke kindly, nodding as Dream left the shop again. The blond pushed the goggles carefully into his hoodie pocket and promptly ran into someone as he turned a corner. The stranger stumbled back, and Dream quickly recognized her as the mayor daughter. 

  
The woman looked up, her eyes widening as realizing seeped into her gaze, "Dream?" 

  
His face paled, he really didn't want to do this now, "Oh..hey." Silence formed between the two of them and Dream sucked in a deep breath. 

  
She was the first to break the silence, "You're back. What are you doing here?" Her voice was kind but curious. Dream pressed his lips together, his hands burying themselves into his jeans' pocket, "Getting some supplies. With George, I- He lives in the forest." Dream spoke, stumbling over his own words as he did. The woman's smile filled with amusement and she visibly relaxed at the mention of George, "George, huh? I didn't know he was your friend." 

  
Friend. Dream wasn't quite sure what their relationship was, but friend didn't sound quite right, "I wouldn't say, friends. We're just...close, I guess." She nodded slowly, her eyes sceptical as they fell onto the shop behind him, "Close enough to buy him an expensive present apparently." Dream's felt his cheeks flush and he cleared his throat, quickly turning his head away from the woman in front of him, "How long have you known George for? I had no idea he had any friends, to be honest." 

  
Dream paused, his gaze moving back to her, "What do you mean?" As far as Dream knew, George had lived with someone for a long time before they disappeared. 

  
"Well, he's just always kind of lived alone out there. Never mentioned anyone either."

  
Dream felt his heart drop, something cold settling in his stomach at this small piece of information. George had bearly talked about the person he was living with before, but he had said that they came here together, built the house together. That alone must have taken months - surely the villagers would have met George's friend when they first got here, "What about when George first came here?" Dream finally asked.

  
She gave Dream an odd look before replying, "He's lived in that forest for as long as I can remember. He's a native here, like us." Her voice was kind like it always was, but her words made Dream's blood run cold. 

  
Her words contradicted everything George had told him. 

  
"What-" Dream's words were interrupted by the loud ringing of a bell echoing through the town's streets and the woman sighed, "As much as I would love to continue this chat, I've got to go." She didn't give Dream a chance to reply before she moved past him and disappeared behind a corner. 

  
Her words left Dream feeling cold and the googles in his pocket suddenly felt impossibly heavy. 

  
Had George been lying to him this entire time? Why? What reason would he have to lie? 

  
By the time Dream got back to the town's gate, George was already standing there - two bags in his hands. It was a lot of supplies, definitely enough to feed two people for at least a few weeks. Something twisted in his chest as Dream realized that George expected him to stay. He was smiling, a smile that only an hour before had filled Dream with warmth. Now it made him feel strangely cold. When George noticed that Dream was approaching, his smile widened, however- it faltered just as quickly as he took in Dream's expression, "You okay? Did something happen?" 

  
Dream stayed silent for a moment, his eyes taking in George's form. His dark eyes were wide, earnest but the mayor's daughter hadn't lied. The burned picture inside the birch cabinet, the way George could navigate the wide expanse of the cave system so easily, the house appearing much older than it should be. It all pointed to him having grown up here, doesn't it? 

  
Dream bet that those missing picture frames were actually family pictures too. He needed to leave, or say something at least but.. he didn't want to fight. Dream knew that if he said something George would recoil, argue and Dream didn't want their last moments together to be in such poor taste. He shook his head, "No. Everything's fine."

  
Maybe this was just the world telling him it was time to move on. That building bonds and relationships weren't worth it after all. 

  
George didn't believe him, Dream could tell by the way his eyes narrowed and the corners of his lips fell. He didn't question Dream's words though, simply sighed and began walking into the direction of the house. 

  
Dark clouds were rising over the forest. It was going to rain. Dream let out a small sigh and followed behind George, falling into step beside him. As they walked through the forest, the air began feeling heavy, charged, as if it were moments before a thunderstorm. The previous bright blue sky was slowly being painted grey and Dream didn't seem to be the only one to notice the change in atmosphere. Next to him, George looked up, squinting slightly as he did, "I didn't think there would be a storm today. We better hurry." 

  
Dream didn't reply, but the two of them did hurry in their steps. 

  
Slowly, the forest began growing more familiar and Dream recognized it as the area he normally patrolled when looking for stray monsters in the morning. They were close. As the house came into view, the rain began falling - first a few loose drops, the two men bearly had any time to react before it began pouring down. George and Dream quickly duck under a tree, though even underneath the thick roof of trees a few loose raindrops still managed to hit them.

  
"Shit. Should we just make a run for it?" George suggested after a short moment of silence. 

  
Dream nodded, "Yeah, we'll get wet either way. Give me one of the bags, it'll make it easier to run." George complied wordlessly, handing over one of the bags filled with groceries. Briefly, their hands brushed against each other and Dream tried to ignore the rush of warmth that fled through him at the touch. Dream clutched the bag tightly in hand, "Alright, I'll count to three and then we run." George spoke, his gaze fixated on his house in the distance. 

  
"One."

  
"Two."

  
"Three."

  
As soon as the word left George's mouth, the two of them took off. The rain poured down onto them. It sunk into their clothes and drenched their hair. By the time they pushed the door open and stumbled into the warmth of the house, both George and Dream were drenched to the bone. George laughed and Dream couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips. 

  
Water slouched in Dream's boots as he stepped further inside, wrinkling his nose at the disgusting feeling of water pouring into his socks, "I take it back, we should have waited under the tree." Dream mumbled as he let the bag in his hand drop to the ground. He heard George chuckle, "We probably would have gotten drenched either way, to be honest." 

  
Dream turned to face George and what he saw made his breath hitch. George's hair was wet and plastered against his forehead, his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold rain outside. And he was smiling. A soft smile, a smile that made Dream want to tug him closer and never let go. 

  
George shivered, the cold finally settling in and Dream had to press his hands against his wet hoddie to keep himself from reaching out. George placed the bag by the door and wrinkled his nose as he glanced down at his clothes, "We should probably get changed..." He mumbled, looking back up at Dream, "After that though, do you want to sit by the fireplace together? Get warmed up?"

  
Dream sucked in a small breath, the image of sitting by George's side with a fire crackling next to them sounded amazing but...the mayors' daughter. Her word still rang clear in his mind, reminding him of the fact that the little things George had shared with him were nothing but lies, "I have a question, George." George's smile faltered at the serious tone, "When did you build this house with your friend?"

  
George fell silent, confusion now shining in his eyes, "A few years ago...Why?" 

  
Dream felt something cold once again settle in his chest and he broke his gaze away from George - the confusion in his eyes hurt too much at the obvious lie. This might be for the better anyway, leaving was a better idea than keeping the illusion of staying here, "Nevermind. I'll head up now." Dream said, turning to head upstairs despite the heaviness of his wet clothes.

  
"Dream?" 

  
"Good night George."

  
Dream hurried up the stairs, making his way into the study at the end of the hallway. As soon as he entered the study and pushed the door close behind him, Dream shed the wet clothes he had been wearing and let them drop onto the wooden floor. He replaced his clothes with some George had given him, it was surprising how well some of these clothes fit him. He glanced back to the pile of wet clothes by the door, he was going to ignore them - happy to wallow in his sadness for the rest of the day but a flash of white from his hoddie made Dream remember the googles he had bought. 

  
Dream picked them up, his lips pressed into a fine line as he saw himself mirrored back in the darkness of the glass. He had been planning on giving this to George.  
He was leaving tomorrow.

  
If he gave it to George now, it would just be a mocking gesture instead of a kind one.

  
A knock on the door broke Dream out of his thoughts and, he quickly hid the goggles underneath the bedding he had been sleeping with before speaking, "Come in." He said, clearing his throat. 

  
The door opens and, there stood George, his hair messy and dry, he was wearing that green hoddie again - the one that was too big on him. God, he was beautiful.   
"Hey," George said with a small smile, "You were acting weird, so I just wanted to see if you were alright?" 

  
Dream sighed and, he ran a hair through his hair as his gaze broke away from George, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired...there's- there's something I have to talk to you about though. Tomorrow." George's face fell and, Dream would almost say that there was a realization in his eyes, "Right." He said, his voice a bit higher than usual, "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then." This time George didn't smile and simply closed the door. 

  
For the first time in a while, Dream felt strangely empty.

  
He was really leaving tomorrow, huh?


	5. Geyser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for the wait! Life has been pretty rough in the last few weeks, that's also the reason why this chapter is much shorter than the ones before - however, the next one will be much, much longer. It's also going to clear up a few things!

The next morning, Dream woke up to the sound of rain hammering against the window. His chest felt empty as he moved to sit up, a sign that the events of yesterday had not been a dream. He sighed, his gaze drifting over to the window. He hadn't shut the curtains yesterday so, he had a clear view of the woods outside. The rainfall had only gotten worse over the night. The sky had darkened into a dark grey, there was no sign that the rain would be stopping any time soon. The trees were being violently thrown around in the wind and Dream had to hold back a wince. They looked like they were bearly holding their own against the stormy winds.

  
Dream pushed himself off the sofa and quickly got himself ready - he didn't want to give himself time to think, to reconsider that maybe he shouldn't leave. That maybe George could still tell him what was going on.

  
But in the days that he had spent with George, he had quickly realized that the other man was not going to share anything with Dream. The trust Dream believed they had built was fragile. Dream was willing to give George time, to let him decide on his own terms what he wanted to share and when. But he had lied straight to Dream's face, it made the blond realize just how little he knew about George. How odd this entire situation was.

  
He had trusted George far too deeply. The only reason why Dream had even stayed this long was because he had seen George in his dreams. He had been naive, taking his words at face value like that. Dream couldn't tell what time it was, the clouds covering the sky and washing away any hope of spotting the sun. However, it had to be early, because when Dream stepped downstairs, the house laid unsettlingly still. There were no signs of George shuffling around in the kitchen, he couldn't hear the brunette humming, couldn't hear the soft crackling of the oven - nothing.

  
Dream ignored the disappointment curling in his chest - leaving without George noticing would be better, it would save Dream from explaining himself. He could spot the rain still pouring down onto the porch at the front and he frowned. He would be travelling through the rain for hours, but in the end, he supposed it would be for the better. He was just about to reach toward the door when George's voice spoke softly from behind him.

  
"Are you leaving?" His voice wasn't accusing, not even confused or annoyed - he sounded tired, bone-deep exhausted.

  
Dream flinched and wiped around, his eyes wide as he stared at George standing in the living room doorway. He was leaning against the door frame, his eyes focused entirely on Dream. The blond felt his heart leap into his throat and he sucked in a deep breath, "Yes."

  
George's expression fell and finally, his gaze broke away from him, "Dream...please don't leave."

  
Suddenly, Dream could relate to the exhaustion radiating off George, "Why not? George, this entire time you've been acting so...strange. First, you can't look me in the eyes and now, after you lied straight to my face, you suddenly want me to stay?" At that, George straightened up, his face growing confused, "Lied? What are you talking about?"

  
Dream couldn't help but roll his eyes, "Don't play dumb with me now, please. I talked to the mayors' daughter yesterday - you've been living here your whole life! You didn't build this house with a friend, you must have grown up here, or-or something." Dream threw his hands up, his frustrations growing with each word that passed his lips. George stayed silent for a moment, however his gaze hardened. His eyes narrowed, though behind his hardened gaze, there was something almost akin to fear, "Tell me, George, why do you not want me to leave? Why?"

  
Then, all at once, George's expression fell apart. The hardened lines on his face fell away, his eyes softened and he pulled his hand up, pressing it against his eyes, he said something. His voice was quiet, just bearly above a whisper. He wasn't even sure if he had heard George correctly, however, Dream had a sinking feeling that he hadn't misheard George.

  
"What?"

  
"Because you die," George said, louder now. He tore his hand away from his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line. This time, his eyes weren't tired or honest, they were wide - distressed. George wrapped his arms around himself, the green, oversized hoddie he always wore hanging from his frame. He looked so small, Dream almost wanted to say broken. It took everything in him not to reach out.

  
George didn't wait for Dream to reply, "Do you know how many times we've had this conversation? Do you know how many fucking times I had to go through this?" Those words brought the world to a stop. The sound of the rain pounding against the roof faded away and the only thing that was left was George - George with his dark gaze and shaking hands, "What are you talking about?" Dream said and it was only then that he realized just how unstable he suddenly felt. His lungs felt smaller than usual, his body didn't feel quite right.

  
George didn't look away, Dream wished that he did, "You die. You die and I'm left here alone, in the woods, in this fucking house that has your touch all over it."   
"That's not true. That's impossible. George, we've never met before." Dream's words were quick, and he felt a weird sense of dread and panic wash over him. This wasn't right, this was impossible. George's gaze hardened, "No. It is true - we woke up in this world together, for years - for fucking years we travelled together. We-" George interrupted himself, his voice breaking and finally, finally he looked away. The heat in his voice was gone completely the next time he spoke, "I loved you. We built this house together and then you died." He laughed, a cold humourless sound that made Dream's chest hurt, "With your death, it seemed like everything was reset again. The villagers didn't recognize me, nothing." George clutched the hoddie tightly in his hands, "Everyone was back to square one. Everyone but me. I mourned you and then you appeared again - asking me for shelter, injured or simply passing by this house. Sometimes you'd stay for a month, sometimes you wouldn't stay at all. But no matter what I did, what I told you - it would always end the same way. You die and it begins again."

  
Finally, it seemed like George was done, silence overtaking the room now.

  
Dream swallowed, his throat felt thick, his breathing didn't feel right and sudden dizziness was filling his head. It was still raining, Dream realized, "George...I-" It was too much information, Dream didn't know what to think. He didn't even have any way of knowing if he was speaking the truth or not. Suddenly, the house felt too much, seeing George was too much, Dream's clothes felt heavy and the air felt chocking, "I-I need to leave. I'll...I'll be back, but I need..." Dream stopped and shook his head, immediately moving to the front door behind him.

  
He tore the wooden door open and was immediately welcomed by rain and the stormy winds, he stepped outside, his backpack and supplies still lying forgotten on the ground. He didn't hesitate when he stepped onto the grass and began making his way toward the woods. George didn't call after him if he did, his voice was swallowed up by the wind.

  
It didn't take long for Dream to become completely soaked, the rain still pouring down heavily. The trees above his head creaked dangerously above his head but Dream registered none of this. His mind swam with George words, repeating all of the things the brunette had told him. It sounded insane, it was insane. George must have lost his mind, living alone for god knows how long.

  
That was what Dream wanted to believe anyway. What he was telling himself again and again as he marched through the dark forest. However, no matter how often he told himself those words, his heart refuses to believe. It simply fit too perfectly. How easily George had let him into his home, how George's truth was a different one from the villagers. The missing pictures, the familiar paintings, the burnt photograph. How easily Dream had been willing to let George into his heart.

  
He stopped, feet rooted to the ground as reality slowly began setting in - it would explain the dreams. His dreams had been the only constant in his life, he never saw the same people twice, never saw the same landscapes again after he left. George inside his dream was the only thing that Dream had ever been sure about. No matter where he slept, George was always there in his dreams. Watching, laughing, waiting.

  
"Fuck."

  
The wind whipped around him and suddenly, the sound of a loud crack broke through the sounds of wind and rain. Dream looked up. He bearly had time to register the tree coming down before it all went black.

  
He opened his eyes and was greeted with the sight of a bright blue sky. There was sand underneath his hands and Dream pushed himself to sit up. He was on a beach, birds were shouting in the distance and a soft breeze brushed over his hair. He took a deep breath, the salt air filling his lungs.

  
Dream finally pushed himself up, his legs shaking as he did. He looked around, nothing around him was familiar. Dream tried to recall what he was doing here, how he had gotten onto this beach in the first place but his mind came up empty. In fact, Dream couldn't recall anything.

  
He let out a breath and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, however as he did, his hands came in contact with a cold object. He frowned, his hand wrapping around the object to pull it out. 

  
It was a set of goggles, white with dark lenses. Confusion bloomed further in his chest. 

  
Weird.


	6. Not What I Meant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried something a bit different with this chapter - let me know what you think! :)

They had woken up together, in the beginning.

The memory was forever be burned into his mind. George wasn't sure if it was because this was their first meeting, or because he could never go back to that moment again.

He woke up on a field, the sky a soft baby blue, the grass an odd shape of yellow. A breeze brushed over the field, rustling nearby trees and stroking over George's face. He simply lay there for a moment, staring up at the cloudless sky as he tried to recall how he had gotten to be here - lying in the middle of nowhere.

George felt the grass next to him shift, a heat that wasn't there before replacing the cool air. He turned his head and came face to face with him.

It had been like he appeared out of thin air.

Dream's gaze was confused, a bit unfocused as his eyes ranked over George features, then he turned away, his gaze falling onto the wide sky above.

He couldn't remember who spoke up first.

It had seemed perfect in the beginning, the skills that each had ingrained within them, complimented the other perfectly. 

George could draw a bow and hit a target dead centre without looking. He knew what was useful when building an overnight shelter, he could tell which berry's they could eat and which they should stay away from. The first time they had bought a map from a village they passed, George knew exactly how to read it, how to map out new places they came across. 

Dream knew how to create any weapon, knew just how to enchant them and how expensive they were. He fought on instinct, a second nature that knew when to turn, to duck or to roll, he could navigate through strange caves and mountains as if he had lived around them for years. He was also the one who knew of their duty. The reason why they had come to life in this world in the first place.  
  
Their duty had been something decided by an unknown force, a force neither George nor Dream would ever find the source of. The reason behind their journey was a dragon. A fight against her to end most of the threats around the overworld. Or so Dream put it - in reality, neither of them knew the reason.

They only knew of the Dragon and each other. The rest was up for them to decide.

There was no real urgency to their duty. No big clock looming over them, no threat of the world ending if the didn't hurry. So, they travelled together for years, uncovering bits and pieces of the story at their own pace - every village they came across had a small puzzle piece, every ruin and abandoned mineshaft told a story and the two gathered all of it.

With every bit they collected, the clearer the picture became. A fallen civilization, the only remnants of it were broken strongholds, blocked off mineshafts and disconnected villages. Its fall came from the dragon - however, even toward the end, neither of them could map out exactly what happened. One thing was clear though, Dream and George were never as connected to the world as they thought they were.

They travelled for years, crossing just as many new streets as familiar ones - however, no matter how long they journeyed, they never changed. Unlike their friends, who formed wrinkles, who's eyes grew tired and bones grew heavy, George and Dream remained unchanged. No matter how long they travelled, how many distances they walked and climbed, they kept their youthful looks, their coloured hair.

George tried to ignore it, but he could see how heavy this laid on Dream's shoulders. How tense he would be, how muffled after they spent a day visiting their old friends. The passage of time never quite sunk into the both of them - it would feel just a month had passed when they had last seen their friend with bright red hair - a red that had faded to grey the next time they saw her.

Despite their fading friendships, neither minded their distance to time as much as they should have. They had each other and sometimes, that was enough.

It was no surprise when, after a time, platonic feelings melted into romantic ones.

George couldn't pinpoint when it happened, but at some point, their dynamic changed. Dream's touch left a certain heat behind, a heat that George wanted to chase after no matter how often their skin brushed against each other. When they looked at each other, their gazes lingered, flickering down to the others lip's far too often. 

Both of them ignored the obvious tension in the air, using the dragon as an excuse to keep their distance. They couldn't risk losing themselves to each other before their journey came to an end.

Maybe they had been scared. George couldn't remember that either.   
After years of preparation, after almost losing each other countless times, they finally made it to The End. 

The air was cold, after only minutes of standing on their little platform George's fingers felt numb. Their breath was visible in the air and neither had enough time to fully take in their surroundings before a roar shattered the silence around them.

George couldn't even feel the spark of panic when Dream took his hand, looked at him and grinned. With his bow held tightly in his hand, George moved without hesitation as he followed him into the mass of black bodies and purple eyes.

The fight was a blur and even now, years later, George had a hard time recalling what exactly happened. He had moved on instinct then, blocking out everything but his targets and Dream. 

"What do I get as a reward when we win Georgie?"

Dream had asked him the day before - a fond grin on his lips as the lava under the portal lit the room up with a warm glow. There had been something in his eyes then, a glint, a meaning that made George's words die on his tongue.  
  
However, when the Dragon died - it's body glowing with a bright light, breaking away the dark blood that had gathered on its body - George and Dream screamed. A joy filling the brunette's chest that urged him to move forward and pull Dream down for a kiss. It wasn't a nice first kiss. They were both sweaty and covered in blood, their limbs ached and the end around them was cold but it was so them. It was exactly how George had thought it was going to be. 

It was them and despite the pain ringing through his body, George wanted that moment to last for forever.

Not much changed in their relationship. The tension that had just always been underlining their actions and touches was gone, leaving them to relish in the warmth the other gave him. It was freeing for both of them, to touch the other how they wanted to.

They left The End, left the stronghold and their enchantments behind and simply wandered aimlessly through the world. It felt empty and peaceful at the same time - for the first time since they first awoke, both George and Dream felt content. Content to live their lives how they wanted to.  
  
They never meant to settle down. They never had a place they called home before, simply places they visited. However, with the finishing of their journey, both men felt the need for something more domestic - simply a place they could call their own.  
  
A forest clearing filled with flowers seemed like as good as a place as any.  
Both of them quickly realized that building a house wasn't as easy as they thought it would be. They knew how to make weapons and tools, but not how to form permanent homes. So, after much deliberation, George asked the nearby village for help - help they gladly gave.

It took weeks of hard work, weeks of gathering materials and decorations, but eventually, the house stood tall above them - a symbol of everything they had worked toward finally coming to an end. They took a picture that day, a new technology that seemed to have become a new hit. At first, that picture had been a source of fondness - seeing Dream's big grin, both of them looking exhausted as they stood proudly in front of their house.

Now it only filled George with bitterness.

At first, George thought it would be hard to call it home, however, when he went to sleep the first night, wrapped in Dream's embrace, in a bed they could call their own, George began to realize that maybe he didn't have to see the house as a home. 

Dream was there, his home kissed him good morning each day and that was enough.

Despite both of them having worked on the house, it quickly became apparent that Dream didn't have the hands for fine work, "George!" He said one say, peeking his head into the kitchen as George was putting some finishing touches on a loaf of bread.

"I have a surprise for you - a present if you will." Dream added, moving forward to wrap his hand around George's. He tugged the brunette forward. George couldn't help the laugh that fell from his lips, "Dream what the hell are you doing?"

"I made something for you - Michael helped, but you know."  
  
Dream ended up leading him into the living room. At first glance, everything remains unchanged, however, after a few moments, George spotted a birch cabinet standing by the fireplace, "Dream...are you serious?" 

The cabinet looked as if a breeze could throw it over, "Yep." George almost sighed at how proud Dream sounded, "Well...It's something alright." George murmured.

Dream shoved his shoulder against George, "Hey, I'm proud of it."   
George shook his head, a smile on his lips as he moved forward and brushed his hand against the wooden structure. It felt surprisingly steady under his touch.

They fell into a routine surprisingly quickly. They didn't stay in the house often, both of their natures urged them to explore, to map new places and meet new people, but they always returned. George never realized how nice it was to have a place you could call your own. The brunette had been sure, so sure, that things would stay like this forever.

Happy.

With Dream by his side.

Things like that can change so suddenly.

It was supposed to be a night to get restless energy out of their system - just running around their woods, fighting the same monsters they always fought. But they were overwhelmed, and before George could even react, Dream's dead body laid among them.  
  
His blond hair was dark with blood, his hoddie stained red and his eyes wide, lifeless. 

George stayed there, shaking hands clutching the still body until morning. No matter how hard the sobbed, how loud he begged and cried, Dream didn't move.  
  
He was gone and George was alone.

George returned to the house hours later, his clothes covered in blood that wasn't his own. How much he wanted it to be his own.

Even with the fireplace still burning from the night before, the house laid cold and still. Like a corpse waiting to be picked up for its funeral. George felt sick, the cooper scent from his clothes weren't helping and he knew he should change, get into the bath to wash the blood from his hands but...something made him hesitate. It felt too final. He didn't want it to be final.  
  
He moved into the living room. The small picture standing on top of the fireplace immediately caught his attention. It was the picture Dream and he had taken the day the house was finished. It was almost mocking, how happy they both looked - Dream had his arm wrapped around his waist.  
He was never going to feel his touch again.

That thought stirred something in his chest and with a wave of sudden anger, George moved forward, gripping the picture and it's frame tightly before tossing it into the fire. He watched with narrowed eyes as the glass shattered, the wood burst and the picture curled into the fire. Watched as Dream's face was burned away, just like his life had been.

Suddenly, anger was replaced with horror and he surged forward, moving into the fire and pulling the picture back before the heat could lick against his skin. The fire died, but it was already too late. Dream was gone, the only thing that remained of him was a vague shape on the picture.

George didn't know when the first knock on the door came. But, when George opened the door, Dream was there. Alive and breathing, with a sheepish grin on his lips, "Hey, sorry - but could you help me? I'm a bit lost."

He looked just like him, the same hoodie, the same grin, the same freckles but his eyes were wrong. His eyes held no recognition for George. He didn't know how many times this happened. Dream would appear, looking just how he always did. Sometimes he'd stay, sometimes he was simply passing by and sometimes Dream never even reached him before the world snapped back to its original state. The only thing that was a constant, was that just like his original Dream, they'd always die. It was inevitable, George had realized that quickly.

He stopped trying to protect him a long time ago.

George tried his best to keep his distance when he appeared, spare himself the hurt that would inevitably follow. Dream never remembered George didn't even know if he could. 

But keeping his distance never worked.

George was always comforted by his smiles, by his touch and he always tore George's walls apart - whether he knew it or not.

When George found Dream again, lying unconscious in the dark woods surrounded by zombies. George helped him. As much as he didn't want to care, couldn't care anymore really, letting Dream die when he could help was the last thing he wanted.  
  
Things felt different this time, this Dream felt so much like the one he knew - like the one he fell in love with. The times they spent together didn't feel as unstable as the others, like George actually had a chance to make Dream stay. But George had been wrong - had waited too long to come forth with the truth. 

As the rain poured down over the forest, as he watched Dream run into the darkness of the forest, George knew that it was time, "Dream!" The shout tore itself from his throat

However, when no reply came, George felt a deep dread form in his throat.

Please.

Not this time.

Please stop taking him from me.

Without much thought, George stormed after Dream. The rain poured down on him, like small cannonballs they tore through his clothes and made the fabric stick uncomfortably on his skin. This time he needed to try, this time Dream had felt too real.  
  
But by the time he reached his body, it was already too late.

George could do nothing more than to sink to his knees and scream.


End file.
